Guide You Home
by loveislouder94
Summary: They sit on her couch in front of the fireplace, and they talk like they haven't talked in months, discussing everything except their own relationship. On Christmas night in HBP, Remus visits Tonks, because "No-one should have to be alone on Christmas."


As Christmas night wears on, Molly's words ring louder and more insistently in his ears.

She's spending Christmas all by herself, and it's all his fault. Later, he tells Molly he's just going for a walk, but he knows all along he'll end up at her flat.

He tells himself that he's going there for her, to make sure she's okay, but that doesn't stop a small bubble of happiness growing in his stomach at the thought of seeing her. He knocks tentatively on her door, wondering briefly what he would do if she refused to let him in, but he can't ponder too deeply, because she's at the door asking the identity of her visitor.

"Remus John Lupin," he says, "werewolf, and…" And what? What is he to her? Once they were friends, but he's not sure where they stand anymore. Somehow, admitting he's the one who broke her heart doesn't seem his best ticket in. "Member of the Order of the Phoenix, known to my friends as Moony. The first time we met, I caught you as you tripped over an umbrella stand," he finishes, smiling at the memory.

The door doesn't move. "Aren't you going to let me in?"

"I don't see why I should. I don't see why you're here."

"No one should have to be alone on Christmas." She senses that he's talking about himself as much as her, and because she knows they're both trying to fill their own emptiness in their own ways, she lets him in.

"Merry Christmas, Remus."

"Merry Christmas, Dora. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

She rolls her eyes at the predictability of his apology – he'd never consider his company to be enough. "I didn't expect you to."

For a few moments they stand facing each other awkwardly, neither one of them sure where to go from here. He breaks the silence first, concerned for her. "Are you feeling okay? You don't look well."

"I'm fine," she says defiantly. "Do you want a drink?" Her answer is revealed to be a lie when she tries to move back to the kitchen, swaying dangerously. Remus is instantly by her side, arms ready to catch her if she falls, just like always.

"Dora," he says, catching her wrists gently, "you're ill. Let me help you."

"You know full well how to make me better," she replies, freeing one hand to cup his cheek. He closes his eyes, leaning in to her touch, even as his mind tells him that he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this.

Taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes and looks straight at her. "And _you_ know that's just not possible. I'm too old, too poor and far too dangerous for you."

It's her turn to breathe, channelling the urge to cry into something more persuasive. "Listen to me, very carefully. I. Do not. Care. I don't care about any of that! It doesn't matter how many times you say it, I still won't care, and I won't give up. Unless…" she hesitates, looking worried. "Unless you don't love me. Tell me you don't love me, and I'll never bring this up again. Do you, or don't you?"

He won't look at her. "Dora, it's Christmas. Can't we just put this aside for now?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"You're not answering mine."

She swallows, clearly conflicted, but decides that entertaining the notion that they're friends again is easier than not seeing him at all. "Let's get a drink and something to eat – we might as well take advantage of the festive cheer."

He follows her to the kitchen, still watching her carefully should she look like she was about to fall. Together, they prepare two glasses of butterbeer and a platter of assorted foods from what they can scrounge up. It seems she's been neglecting her grocery shopping, as well as eating and sleeping.

They sit on her couch in front of the fireplace, and they talk like they haven't talked in months, discussing everything except their own relationship. She complains about being stationed with someone as boring as Dawlish, and he tells her how visions of Greyback's pack and their brutality haunt his nightmares.

She's exhausted from lack of sleep – she can't stop yawning and fights to keep her eyes open, because this is the happiest she's been in a long time, and she doesn't want to miss a second. She curls up next to him, but tells him to keep talking, so he does. She closes her eyes, intending to keep listening, but she's asleep almost immediately.

As Remus watches her sleep, he wishes he could stay here in this perfect moment with her forever. If only every moment could be like this. But if it was, these moments wouldn't matter so much. We need the times of pain and hurt, if only because each bad time we overcome makes the good ones seem that much more precious.

She stirs and opens her eyes. "Sorry," she says blearily, "I'm not the best company."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Come on, I'll lead you to bed." He leads her up the stairs, and when they reach her room she crawls onto the bed fully clothed, without even bothering to remove her shoes. He does it for her, and covers her with a blanket.

"I love you," she says sleepily.

He waits until he hears her snore, certain she's asleep, before he replies. "I love you too, Dora."

He's gone when she wakes up in the morning, and the only proof she has that he was there at all is the brief feeling of contentment that envelopes her before she realises he's gone, and a note in his neatly manicured handwriting:

_I'm sorry._

She sighs heavily and flops back into bed, wishing she could sleep through everything. As much as it hurts right now, seeing him was the best Christmas present she could have asked for.

Hope was his greatest gift to her, and she would cling to it, through all the lonely times without him, and it would be her beacon, through broken days and haunting nights, that one spark of hope would be the light to guide her home.


End file.
